They usher me into a dark room at the end of the hallway. Jill switches on a light. When I glimpse what’s inside the room, my legs collapse in terror.
11
HEATHER
––––––––
Monday afternoon, July 12
“That has to be the ugliest hat I’ve ever seen, Twinkle Toes.”
Walking the dirt path beside Justin, I pick up my pace, ignoring his drawled comment. When Justin mentioned the park as a meeting place, I assumed we’d be sitting on a bench. That assumption, though, was dashed when he skidded a Toyota Hilux (his roommate’s, I learn later) into the parking lot, two furry Alsatians slobbering ecstatically out the back windows. No way we’d be sitting still with these two.
“You raid Grandma’s closet for that hat?”
I sigh. “You’re not going to let it go, are you?”
“My diabolical nature won’t allow me to.”
Caught between annoyance and manners, I say, “My skin reacts badly to the sun.”
“How badly?”
“It gets red and blotchy. Then it gets itchy.”
“You heard of sunscreen?”
“It doesn’t help.” Which is why I’m wearing a straw hat with the widest brim I can find. I should’ve removed the plastic flowers, though.
“You’ve got lovely skin,” he says. “Hard to imagine it flaring up like that.”
The comment is said so offhandedly a couple of seconds pass before it dawns on me he’s paid me a compliment. “Thanks,” I say awkwardly.
After a short silence, I gesture to the two Alsatians running ahead of us. “Shouldn’t they be on a leash?”
“Says who?”
“The sign back there.”
“I’m not much for rules, Twinkle Toes.”
“Please don’t call me that.”
“Twinkle Toes?” He shrugs. “The name seems to have stuck. You’re all irritating cheer and naivety. But I’ll compromise. How about TT? Then if the mood hits, you can opt for Terrible Tyrant.”
“Heather,” I grit out. “My name is Heather.”
“Heather, huh? Isn’t that the flower that’s so common in Scotland? The one with the terrible smell?”
“There’s no terrible—” I stop, realizing by the twitch of his lips he’s baiting me. And enjoying it.
I smile sweetly. “Justin? As in just-in, just-out?”
His eyes gleam in appreciation. “Only if you’re talking commitment.” He lifts his face to the sun. “Heather doesn’t suit you.”
“You’re an expert on names now?”
“Names, no.” He grins. “Women, yes.”
